


Sectoral Heterochromia Iridum

by Froyduhr



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, pokelock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froyduhr/pseuds/Froyduhr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock-universe meets Pokémon-universe, stuffs happen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sectoral Heterochromia Iridum

Title: Sectoral Heterochromia Iridum  
Fandom: Sherlock & pokemon (Pokelock)  
Pairing: Johnlock and (kind of) Mystrade  
Rating: There shall be bangin’  
Warnings: smex n’ swearz  
\---  
«Do you have a girlfriend? » John asked, trying to create a conversation with the man in front of him. The man he had met the day before this. The man who had found out almost his entire life story, only by looking at him for a few mere seconds. He had guessed his army life by the tan-line on his wrist. His doctor degree by a simple comment he made. His sister’s alcoholism by the scrapes on his pokedex (however, the man had said brother.) That man, the one who sat in front of him now, was his new flat-mate and the world’s only consulting detective; Sherlock Holmes.  
“Girlfriend? No, I don’t have any interest in such.” Sherlock answered, looking out of the window on the other end of the restaurant, looking after clues.  
Yeah, John thought. This is what my everyday might start to look like, as Sherlock Holmes’ assistant. At least that is what John would describe himself as. They were on a case. A bunch of strange suicides had occurred, where all the victims had used the same poison, and ended up in places that they normally wouldn’t be at. The police had been without any clues, so they had gone for help, bringing in Sherlock.  
The latest suicide, had been committed by a woman dressed in pink, found in an old building. The police investigator team had said that it was a suicide, like the others, but Sherlock had found traces of clues, that none of the crime inspectors had found.  
“Oh, do you have a…boyfriend, then?” John asked, a bit embarrassed. Sherlock glanced at him for a mere moment with amusement in his eyes. Before said magically coloured green, blue and gold orbs moved back to peer at the busy street outside.  
Those eyes, ‘suffering’ from Sectoral Heterochromia Iridum had found where the pink lady had been, because of the wetness of her jacket. Those eyes, which had recognised the marks of mud that you only can find on someone who has been dragging a suitcase after them. That brilliant mind that had linked the lack of a suitcase with the fact that the murderer, yes, Sherlock had understood that it was all murders, must have had it. And he found the case in the exact spot of where he had calculated that it would be. And he had found that in the lack of a pokedex, the murderer must have had it.  
“No, I don’t” Sherlock answered and kept his eyes fixed on the window. “Oh, ok. It’s good. I-I mean it’s all good, ya know.” John said frantically, not quite knowing what to say, or to keep the conversation going. Sherlock finally let his gaze leave the window and he looked at John with a worried, confused look in his, hard, colourful eyes. “listen here, John. You should know that I am married to my job, and however I am flattered, but I don-“ “No, no! I didn’t mean it like that!” John cut of Sherlock, feeling really embarrassed by the detective’s assumption.  
Sherlock looked back out of the window with a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth. He scanned the window and then, he understood. “Who is it that no one notices? Who is the shadow that no one suspects? Who blends in with London’s busy streets, who no one thinks about? Who hunts in the crowds? Off course, it’s brilliant!” Sherlock said, mostly to himself.  
John looked confused at his friend. “What do you mean?” he asked. Sherlock turned his head and stared right into John’s eyes. “Cab-driver.” John looked even more puzzled. “The murderer is a cabby, John!” Sherlock explained, eyes twinkling in excitement.  
xXx  
Sherlock dropped the sentence as he saw John, Pyro and Carus, standing by the police cars. “Don’t listen to me Lestrade, I’m in shock!” Sherlock said as he jumped down from the ambulance and strode towards John. “Nice shot.” Sherlock smiled smugly. “Y-yes. Very good.” John agreed, scratching Pyro, who laid in his arms. The growlithe growled happily. “I know you shot the murderer, thank you.” Sherlock said sincerely and signalised to Carus. Said eevee jumped up on his shoulder. John smiled as they began to walk, slowly, away from the crime scene. “Yeah, it was a good shot.” John stated. Sherlock’s smile faltered a bit. “Are you sure that you are okay?” he asked. “Yep.” John answered. “You did just kill a man.” Sherlock reminded him. “Yeah.” John said. “But he wasn’t a very nice man.” Sherlock nodded in approval. “and a terrible cabby too. Did you see the route he took‽”  
They had to stifle the snigger as detective Donovan and her vulpixes walked by. “Sorry, it’s the shock.” John said before following after Sherlock again.  
They stopped dead in their tracks as a tall, black-haired man called upon them; standing, not far away with a flareon by his side. “It’s him, Sherlock. That’s the guy who wanted me to spy on you.” John whispered. Sherlock clenched his jaw. “I know exactly who this is, John.” He replied, glaring at the stranger. “Sherlock.” The stranger greeted. “What are you doing here‽” Sherlock replied, still glaring. “Sherlock, behave. What would mommy say?” The strange man replied. John looked at the strange man while furrowing his brows. “Don’t bring her up, besides you are the one who started it, Mycroft!” Sherlock hissed. “Wait, what? Who is this Sherlock, what is going on?” John asked, confused. Sherlock sighed and looked over at his friend, Carus’ tail blocking a bit for his view. “This is my older brother, Mycroft.” He said, gesturing towards the older black haired man. John looked strangely back and forth between Sherlock and Mycroft. “your brother? “ He asked. “Yes, I am.” Mycroft said. “And if you’ll excuse me. I have an appointment to make. Come along Socrates.” And with that, the man and his flareon walked into a black car that was parked right by them.  
\---  
John sighed and scratched Pyro behind the ears. “I am so bored, old buddy.” The man sighed and lifted his canine friend up on his lap. “Where have Sherlock gone to now?” He sighed again.  
John looked up as he heard a slam of a door downstairs, followed by the soft paws of Carus and the thuds that came from the elegant striding steps of Sherlock as the two ran up the stairs.  
The door slammed open and Sherlock stood in the doorframe, wide smile on his face. “I did it!” He beamed before he cupped John’s face and kissed him before he continued his stride up to the kitchen where he sat down and looked through the microscope.  
John stared at the tall man with a look of pure shock on his face.  
“What the hell was that‽” He yelped and put a hand over his mouth. Sherlock did not even look up from the microscope. “I have just found the cure for the pokévirus.” he said.  
“Not that! Why did you kiss me?” John asked, completely bewildered. “Oh. Well is that not what you do when you are happy and when you like someone?” Asked Sherlock. John felt a blush creep over his cheeks. “Well only if you have the consent of the other.” He said.  
Sherlock looked up from the microscope and walked up to John.  
“Can I kiss you, John?” He said In a low tone that sent chills down John’s spine. John did not answer, but instead, he grabbed the back of Sherlock’s neck and pulled his head down so their mouths met for a breath-taking kiss.  
Pyro jumped off John’s lap, as the doctor rose to his feet. The growlithe shrugged, as if it was no surprise for him, and he sat down in his owner’s armchair, where Carus already sat, licking her paws.  
John placed the other hand, the one he wasn’t using to grab at the taller man’s neck, on Sherlock’s right hip.  
With a deep growl in his throat, John opened his mouth and Sherlock mirrored his moves. John pushed his tongue inside of Sherlock’s mouth, and the brilliant man’s legs turned to jelly as John moved the hand on his hip further down, to grasp at his right buttock.  
John moved backwards until the back of his legs hit the couch and he tippled up into it Sherlock followed, straddling the shorter man, but John held his hands firmly at Sherlock’s sides as he spun them 180* around, so he was roaming over the detective.  
John ripped open Sherlock’s shirt and kissed down his chest. Sherlock moaned and pushed up against the shorter’s touch.  
John bit at Sherlock’s belt-buckle and opened the man’s pants with his mouth. John looked at the black-haired’s clothed erection with a triumphant smirk.  
John moved one of his hands down from Sherlock’s side and let his fingers stroke over the bulge in Sherlock’s boxers. Feathery touches, danced over the cloth and Sherlock felt like he was about to explode with arousal. He needed John to do anything, just anything! “Please.” He pleaded and John replied by mouthing his erection before sliding Sherlock out of his underwear and pants.  
John sat up and buckled open his own jeans, easing the pressure on his member. Sherlock looked up at the man with half-lidded eyes and a look of arousal glowing from his colour-palette irises.  
John’s pupils expanded, leaving only a small circle of greyish blue around the black hole into his eye. Their mouths met for another kiss and John’s hand wrapped around both their members. With a groan as from an animal, John began moving his hand, stroking the genius’ and his own manhood together in an uneven, erratic rhythm.  
Sherlock moaned under the touch and was for once: not in control of himself. “J-John, I-!” Was all the warning John got before the detective came, spilling his seed on John’s hand and his own lower stomach. The look on Sherlock’s face was enough for the war-doctor to fall over the edge of his orgasm, and with a loud gasp, he spilled his seed over his own hand and over Sherlock’s lower stomach.  
John looked down at Sherlock and smiled as he saw that the man had fallen asleep.  
“Just as well.” John mumbled. “He’s barely slept these last weeks.” John went to the kitchen-sink and wetted a small towel with a bit of lukewarm water, before walking back to the sleeping man. With affection in his eyes, he began cleaning him up, wiping away the evidence of their doings. Then he retrieved Sherlock’s duvet and pillow and tucked him carefully inn.  
“Sleep tight, brainy.” John said with a small laugh and kissed his forehead before walking into the bathroom.  
Pyro and Carus padded out of John’s room and up to the couch where Sherlock slept. The two canine Pokémon jumped up and made themselves comfortable upon the British man’s form.  
Carus licked at her paws and nuzzled her owner’s fluffy hair while Pyro rolled over to his back and fell asleep.  
John took his time showering, and didn’t exit the bathroom before nearly an hour had gone past.  
He signalled to the two Pokémon to follow him, and they did. And the three of them walked out on the streets of London. John figured that it was not just him who needed some fresh air.  
As he looked at Carus and Pyro play with the other Pokémon in the park, his mind wandered back to what had happened between him and Sherlock.  
He had liked it, that was not it, he himself wouldn’t mind if they did that more… but what about Sherlock? Sherlock had told him that he liked him, but still, had he meant it?  
John’s thoughts were broken as Greg walked up to him. “Hey John!” He cheered. “Oh, hi, Greg.” John replied and saw the Scotland Yard officer’s ninetails play with Carus and Pyro. “Seems like they get along.” John said and nodded to the three canines. “Heh, yeah. Lady really seems to like Carus and Pyro.” Greg replied with a smile. “Huh, did Sherlock evolve Carus?” Greg asked as his cream-coloured fox began playing with a flareon. “No, That’s not Carus.”  
“No, defiantly not.” A voice said from behind the two men.  
“Mycroft?” John asked as he saw the elder of the Holmes brothers.  
“Yes. But what on earth is Socrates doing?” Mycroft said. “Well, he seems to have the hots for Lady.” Greg said with a smirk and a wink.  
Mycroft flinched and his ears turned a shade or two to the more reddish part of the spectrum. “S-shut up, Lestrade. Socrates has way higher standards.” He said, a bit harsher than he had meant before he turned around to leave.  
“And hey, Mycroft.” Greg said. “If you want, I can come over one day and pull that stick out of your arse.”  
Mycroft whined and stomped off, face burning like the flames from his beloved flareon.  
John laughed as the elder Holmes left the two men behind.  
“Speaking about stick in the arse, I think I’ll go back home before Sherlock lits the kitchen on fire…again.” The doctor said and gestured to Pyro and Carus, who came running up to him.  
John walked up the stairs to his and Sherlock’s apartment where he heard muffling from the other side of the door. John grabbed the door-handle and turned it before walking in.  
“Sherlock?” John asked as he looked inside of the apartment.  
The room was pitch-black and there was no other sound to be heard except from the faint, muffled sound from earlier. “J-John?” A hoarse voice asked. It was Sherlock, but the tone in his voice, it sounded like-  
“Sherlock, are you crying?” John asked and stumbled into the room, searching for the high-functioning sociopath.  
“I-I thought you had left me…” Sherlock said with a broken voice. “I mean…Why shouldn’t you have...? everyone does…”  
John found the shivering body of Sherlock Holmes and wrapped his arms around his thin frame.  
“I am sorry, I went to the park. It looked like you needed some sleep, so I let you be.”  
“please never leave me, John.” Sherlock whimpered and held the shorter man’s shirt, burying his face in it.  
“I will never leave you Sherlock. I love you.” John promised and kissed the man gently.


End file.
